


Come Fly With Me

by Ossobuco



Category: Marvel
Genre: Fluff, Flying, M/M, New York City, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-08
Updated: 2012-10-08
Packaged: 2017-11-15 21:45:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/532110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ossobuco/pseuds/Ossobuco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark has some odd ideas about how to escape from a party. Inspired by the song of the same name by Frank Sinatra.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come Fly With Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BlossomsintheMist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlossomsintheMist/gifts).



“Wanna get out of here for a few?” Tony whispered into his ear.

Steve still wasn’t used to the parties, the disarming, dazzling lights and the crowds of men in tailored suits and women in dresses he wasn’t prepared to lay eyes on in a thousand years, the way people moved around each other, the smells of expensive colognes. It was an even stranger experience to be dancing with Tony at one. He didn’t mind the looks occasionally thrown in their direction, not really; just the pressure of Tony’s hands was enough to keep his mind off of them, that and the smell of his breath and the star-bright twinkle in his eyes as they moved around the dance floor in a slow, easy tango. Tony had taught him enough basic steps to keep moving and was leading carefully, making every shift and change of direction obvious. Steve suspected he wasn’t the greatest dance partner, but Tony wasn’t complaining, grasping Steve’s hand firmly and tilting his head so their cheeks touched.

Steve turned his head a little, made eye contact for a moment before they were cheek-to-cheek again. “It’s your party. Don’t you need to be…?”

“C’mon, relax, nobody’ll miss us.” Tony steered them past the bar, around a group of half a dozen people schmoozing over hors d’oeuvres, and towards the hallway; he danced them in a lazy circle there for a minute or two, and when the song ended, he leaned in close, his lips pressing lightly to Steve’s cheek. “Meet you on the roof in ten,” he murmured.

He let Steve go, playing it off with a grin, and casually turned to engage an older couple standing near the door, sipping champagne with painfully bored expressions. Steve watched him a little perplexedly, feeling a crooked little smile creep onto his face. The roof didn’t exactly seem ideal for a chat or a stroll or whatever else Tony might’ve had in mind, but Tony’s plans were rarely orthodox. Steve found he enjoyed that much more than he ever thought he might.

He skirted a few dancing couples on his way to the bar and ordered a glass of wine, partially so as not to look so out of place, mostly to kill time. Resting against the bar, he looked back towards the door, but Tony had disappeared and the older couple were alone again, conversing with sour faces. Steve supposed he was mingling somewhere else in the crowd. He sipped his drink, checked his watch, turned down two offers to dance from nice-looking women. With two minutes and a handful of seconds left on the clock, he scanned the room for a likely exit, and navigated around the edges of the teeming crowd to a door in a back corner. He pushed it open; it led to a stairwell, which opened after a few flights onto the roof of the building, flat, dotted with vent covers and a few flood lights, surrounded by a several-foot-high balustrade. The night was warm and cloudless, a scattering of stars visible through the city’s neon glow, and the noise of the traffic was barely audible dozens of stories beneath him.

A gust of wind rattled over the rooftop, rustling his hair and whistling under his collar, and just after it he heard the unmistakable blast of a repulsor. He tensed immediately, planting his feet and turning towards the source of the noise, ready to defend himself, his mind racing—had Tony known there’d be a fight? Had Fury contacted him with a mission?—in time to see the familiar Iron Man suit ascend just past the balustrade and hover there, gleaming red in the swimming city lights. 

Steve walked to the balustrade, setting his hands on the railing. “Tony?”

“Fancy meeting you up here, handsome.” Tony floated over the barrier and set down with surprising grace on the rooftop. His visor opened, and he grinned.

Steve stared for a half a second, and found himself smiling the next. “Not exactly what I expected.”

“Yeah, well, I live to defy expectations. C’mere.” Steve took two steps towards him; Tony took one, and when they were close enough, Tony took his hands—the metal strange and cool against his fingers—and pulled them around his waist, and very quickly kissed him. “Hold on tight.”

Steve did as instructed, just in time as the visor snapped shut and Tony linked one arm around his waist in turn. The next moment, Steve’s arms strained against the force of their acceleration, the air rushing against his face as Tony flew them higher, shining glass windows and steel beams zooming past them—and then the tops of the skyscrapers were shrinking below them and the city was nothing but a swarm of lights, red and white, gold and blue.

“What do you think, champ?” Tony asked.

The sight of it all—or possibly the altitude—was making Steve feel a touch lightheaded. He could see all the way to the water, see the Ferris wheel spinning in a beaded circle at Coney Island, Stark Tower rising like a lighthouse above the streets, Lady Liberty raising her torch over the sea, the smallest silhouette shining on the horizon. “Tony, it’s incredible.”

Now that they were still, Tony opened his visor again, a grin on his face and a bright light in his eyes like Steve wasn’t sure he’d ever seen. Careful to keep his arms linked securely around the suit’s waist, Steve leaned in close until he could feel the warmth of Tony’s breath in the cool air, and kissed him as the wind whipped around them and the lights glittered below.


End file.
